* * * * *

    “The choristers and I.C.U. enlivened each station along the route by
    rending sacred songs and solos as The Kano Express drew in.”—­Lagos
    Weekly Record.

“That’s torn it,” said the conductor.

* * * * *

    “Britons never shall be slaves if they will only remember the solemn
    warning of the author of the words—­’To thine own self be true, and
    then thou canst be false to any man.’”—­Letter in Scotch Paper.

One recognises the note of liberty, but we fear the writer must have got hold of a German edition of “Unser Shakspeare.”

* * * * *

THE HARDSHIPS OF BILLETS.

As Jim and me lies in hospital gettin’ better from our wounds we talks over what we’ve been through in this War.

There was the time when we was billeted with Mrs. Dawkins, just before we went to the Front, which dwells in our memories.  When the billetin’ orficer introduced us into her kitchen Mrs. Dawkins went down on the bricks and prayed she might do her duty by the two noble defenders of her country—­she meant me and Jim—­who the Lord had pleased to deliver into her care.  Then she begun unlacin’ Jim’s boots.  In a minute Mr. Dawkins come in; he said we was hearty welcome, and was just goin’ to shake ’ands with us when Mrs. Dawkins turned on ’im and asked ‘im what he meant by standin’ there like a gawk and not unlacin’ mine.  Jim and me was very uncomfortable.

Then some little Dawkinses come in, Susan, Sammy, Billy and Elfreda, and was told by Mrs. Dawkins to pay their respecks to us, and do it proper or she’d know the reason why.  Sammy saluted left-’anded and she cuffed him unmerciful.  Jim and me begun to feel regler low-spirited.

After that she set out the tea.  It was as butiful a tea as we could wish for, cakes and jam, and bloater-paste and sardines, and bein’ hungry after a long march we cheered up and looked forward to enjoyin’ it.  As was correck Jim ’anded all the dishes to Mrs. Dawkins first, but she said, “No, thank you, such things are for the defenders of the country, and it is our duty to provide them, but bread-and-dripping is good enough for me and Mr. Dawkins and the children.”

Susan, Sammy, Billy and Elfreda all begun to cry, and their father sat lookin’ at ’em, the picture of misery.  It clean took away our appetites.  She piled our plates with jam and sardines, but we couldn’t swaller a mouthful with them poor kids sobbin’ all round the table.  We was thankful they was put to bed before supper.  Mrs. Dawkins fried potaters and sausages and set ’em down in front of me Jim, with a jug of porter, and she and Dawkins and a young man lodger sat at the other end, behind half a Dutch cheese and some water.  All the meals was the same.